


Fairy Ring

by soundofez



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: (Kim Diehl), (Liz Thompson), (Maka Albarn/Black Star), (Patty Thompson), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Asexual Character, Folklore, Gory Imagery, M/M, Mood Whiplash, ResBang 2017, also i fucking adore ace soul okay bye, depression a la Viktor Nikiforov, fantastic racism/speciesism, magic-impaired judgement, parental pressure for marriage, what the everloving heck is pacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-08 04:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12856824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofez/pseuds/soundofez
Summary: Wes Evans visits his little brother in the hills to look for fairies and maybe escape an arranged marriage. He finds himself taken as the new king’s consort, which isn’t quite what he was going for— but it’sbetter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. WOW. you know what happens when you draft a fic in the week before you publish? what happens is you get too eager to publish at midnight and foRGET TO WILLSMITHPRESENTS YOUR PARTNERS LIKE A DINGUS. 
> 
> anyway my partners in crime have been the sweet, constant [@sahdah](http://sahdah.tumblr.com) ([art](https://sahdah.tumblr.com/post/168370637870/fairy-ring-soundofez-did-the-resbang-thing-and)) and the enthusiastic [@fabulousanima](http://fabulousanima.tumblr.com) ([art](http://fabulousanima.tumblr.com/post/168371394729/i-had-the-enormous-privilege-of-working-with))!
> 
> last but never least, this fic would not exist and could not be possible without the fantastic, the mystical, the Queen [@l0chn3ss](http://l0chn3ss.tumblr.com). you’re my favorite cryptid forever, nessie ♥️

#### ACT I. Wishes

* * *

[don’t ever walk into a fairy circle.](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378/)  
[for protection: iron, salt, rowan and vervain and hazel.](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378/)  
[never give out your true name.](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378/)

* * *

“You know, salt is what keeps us away.” 

Wes looks up from scattering oregano and sees, looming intimately close and yet too far away, a slender young man dressed all in black. “Oh,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful. Why would I want to keep you away?” 

The man stares. Wes’s heart skips a golden beat. 

Then, with a blink, he wakes. 

His little brother is staring down at him. Wes thinks he catches an inhuman red in Soul’s eyes, a fragment of flash photography— and then the moment passes, and they are their usual brown. 

“A b-beast is gonna get you one of these days,” Soul sighs. 

“Love you, too,” Wes mumbles. He sits up and absently taps a few fingers to his chest. “Time is it?” 

“Sundown. You shouldn’t s-still be out.” 

Wes pushes himself to his feet and pats himself down. “It wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t live in the hills,” he points out as he sheds stray grass blades. “You know what the locals call you?” 

Soul smirks. “The Catholics call me a demon. The rest are too smart to call me anything.” 

“No, they call you a witch.” 

Soul waves a dismissive hand. “Same difference.” He scowls at Wes. “Are those mushrooms? What’re you doing with them?” 

Wes returns the scowl with what he is sure is an impressively patronizing frown of his own. “I’m gonna cook ‘em. Duh.” 

Soul picks up an offending fungus. “No, why were they... on the ground at all?” 

“They grew there, of course.” 

Soul sighs. The sound is tinged with exasperation, but only just. “These are shiitake mushrooms.” 

“So?” 

“So if you’re gonna lie, at least try and be plausible.” 

Wes beams. “But if I did that, how would you ever know I was lying?” 

“Wow, th-thanks, you braggart.” Soul’s voice is as flat as any of his expressions, but Wes is reasonably certain that he hears sincerity. “Here.” 

Wes deposits his handfuls of fungi into the wicker basket before he takes it. “That’s the spirit. Why’d you come looking for me?” 

Soul gestures mutely at the rapidly darkening sky. 

“It’s not even twilight yet,” Wes says. “How’d you know where to find me?” 

Soul’s scowl deepens ever-so-slightly. “I have my sources.” 

“You and your little birds,” Wes grumbles. He tosses the last of the mushrooms into the basket and straightens, tugging his necklace from under his shirt to fiddle with the charm. 

Soul sighs. “Put that down,” he warns, exasperated, as Wes lifts the loops of violin string to his eye. “Don’t know why you even bother,” he adds, crossing his arms, but he doesn’t move away. 

“A harmless habit,” Wes says cheerfully, dropping the charm back down the front of his shirt. 

“Yea, well, don’t do it ’round the— guest.” 

Wes doesn’t miss Soul’s hesitation, but he also doesn’t pry. “We have a guest?” (Okay, he pries a little, but Soul has been _fidgeting_ in that cagey way of his ever since Wes woke up, and he is burning with unanswered questions.) 

“ _I_ have a guest. N-not family.” Soul hesitates again, just as briefly as before, but this time Wes recognizes caution. “He’ll be gone before dawn, but—” 

“I have enough to make him dinner, too,” Wes offers, cheerfully brandishing his mushroom-laden wicker basket. 

Soul sighs. “He’ll take it if he wants to, I suppose,” he says, turning and striding into the woods around them. Wes follows, waiting in placid silence for Soul to tell him more about the mysterious guest. 

“... He’s my boss,” Soul admits, several minutes later. “You, ah… I cannot afford for you to make a poor impression on him, and he is… not likely to take kindly to your— harmless habit.” 

Wes taps his chest with absent-minded fingers, tracing the circle of violin string hanging quietly under his shirt. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says softly. 

Soul’s guest is familiar, in a dizzying, déjà vu kind of way, but Wes is certain that he’s never seen the man in his life, if only because he’d surely remember such precise elegance. 

“I apologize for running off without letting you in, Ki-Kid,” Soul says as he unlocks his front door. “You understand my haste, I’m sure.” 

Kid’s eyes flick to Wes. “Perfectly,” he agrees. 

Wes feels oddly flattered, but isn’t sure why. “A pleasure to meet you,” he murmurs. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Kid replies, with breathtaking honesty that Wes could get lost in. 

“This is my brother, Wes,” Soul tells Kid. 

His name feels like a dash of cold water, shocking his system and washing it clear. Wes finds himself ushered into the house, and then the kitchen. 

“Are you okay?” Soul whispers. 

“Fine, I’m...” Wes loses track of the sentence and diverts to something more important. “That’s him? Your... boss?” 

“Yes.” 

“He’s _beautiful_.” Whoops. 

Soul is grimacing. “He’s _dangerous_ ,” he says. “Stay away from him.” 

“Can I cook him dinner?” 

Soul sighs. “Yes, fine, but he might not take it.” He pauses. “He has my— my dietary restrictions.” 

Wes salutes. “No salt, lots of milk and cream.” 

Soul nods and glances at the kitchen door. “I should go... speak with him.” 

“He’s a guest,” Wes agrees. “Go be a good host.” 

Soul salutes back, smiling faintly. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

* * *

Wes pauses at the closed door to Soul’s study, not quite eavesdropping— rather, he’s listening to tones and cadences more than to words. Soul’s voice he knows: emotionlessly even, with only the slightest of variations to indicate that he has feelings. Kid’s voice, though, is new and expressive and utterly intoxicating. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wes announces at last, knocking on wood. 

The door clicks open smoothly, and Wes finds himself looking down at Kid. “Perfect,” the man beams. “Lead the way, dear.” 

“Of course,” Wes says, and hopes that the grin spreading across his face looks less stupid than it feels. 

Soul’s cottage doesn’t have a dining room, only a little round table beside the back door in the kitchen. Usually there’s only a single seat, but Soul has extra chairs in the pantry, and Wes had taken the liberty of setting the table for three before fetching them. 

“What’s this?” Soul asks. “Cream of mushroom— _Wes_.” 

Wes startles at his name— he hadn’t quite registered that his brother had followed him and Kid. “They're mushrooms, they grow from dirt anyway,” he says, petulantly, one hand rising absently to hook itself around his necklace. 

“You’re not wrong,” Soul sighs, and Wes lets go of the necklace. “Freely given,” he tells Kid, already seated. “Please stop flirting.” 

“Why?” Wes asks, seating himself. 

“Because you’re taken, Wes,” Soul says bluntly, and Wes rips his gaze from Kid to stare at his brother, betrayed, but Soul is watching Kid. 

“Is that so?” Kid sounds calm, but the expressiveness of his voice has vanished, and Wes’s skin prickles with goosebumps at the  sudden chill in the room. 

“He's betrothed,” Soul continues to Kid, with an ugly note of smugness, apparently unaware of— 

Wes stands, feeling empty, empty, empty. “Excuse me,” he says. 

Soul looks at him, finally, with abrupt guilt. “Wes—” 

But Wes is out of the kitchen and halfway to his room and not about to stop. 

He locks his door like a petulant child and crumples to the floor, a sob caught in his throat— but where he once would have let Soul hear him cry, he now chokes on rage and desperation and hurt. He’d come here, to the hills, to his brother, to _get away_ from his impending marriage. It was supposed to be his personal, private bachelor’s party with the one other person on the planet who knows how intensely terrified Wes is of his familial duties. 

The one other person who was supposed to know, at least. Wes scrubs at his eyes angrily and glares at the bed. 

Someone knocks at the door. “Wes,” Soul says. 

Wes doesn’t answer. 

“I’m... sorry.” 

Soul doesn’t lie. Wes doesn’t care. He scoots off his ass and crawls to the bed. 

Soul sighs. “Wes, please,” he repeats, knocking again, and he sounds as heartless as Wes feels. (He’s not, Wes knows— but Wes isn’t listening for Soul’s subtle tells, not right now, and he _doesn’t care_. He pulls a knapsack out from under the bed and tries not to remember why it’s there.) 

“Please let me… explain myself.” 

Wes shoves himself to his feet and unlatches the window over the bed. 

“Kid is… dangerous,” Soul is saying. “I wanted to ward him off, to protect you, but I should have remembered how you felt. Feel. About the whole affair. I apologize.” 

“I don’t need protecting,” Wes hisses to the wooden shutters as he swings them outward. 

“I know,” Soul sighs, as if he’d heard Wes. “I know you don’t… need me. But Wes, please, be careful. At least until Kid leaves.” 

Wes slings his knapsack out the window and clambers after it. 

“Master Evans,” a mild voice says. 

Wes startles and tumbles to the cropped grass. His heart reappears in his chest, beating furiously as if to make up for its agonizing absence. “Kid,” he blurts, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—” He glances around, expecting at any moment to see Soul’s pale hair. 

“I was just about to be on my way when I saw you leaving as well,” Kid says pleasantly. ( _Eagerly_.) “I thought I would wait for you.” 

Wes tugs at the chain of his necklace, abashed at having been caught but flattered at having the man’s attention. “You shouldn’t have,” he murmurs, but he’s grinning uncontrollably. 

Kid grins back, fey and sharp. “If you need somewhere to go…” 

Wes blinks. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I can afford a night at the inn in town.” 

Kid eyes Wes’s knapsack. “You have a bedroll with you.” 

“I _can_ afford a night at the inn,” Wes repeats. 

Kid nods. “Let me accompany you, then,” he declares, and beckons for Wes to follow him down the little dirt path leading away from the house. 

_Be careful_ , Soul had said, and _Kid is dangerous_ , but Wes chases the warnings from his thoughts. “I would be honored, sir.” 

“As you should be.” Kid’s reply might be flippant if it didn’t sound so rote. “So, you are betrothed.” 

Wes’s heart falls. “An arrangement of convenience,” he says bitterly, staring down the path. “My heart is my own.” 

“I see.” Kid sounds pleased. (Wes’s heart trembles with irresistible hope.) “Do you… seek someone to give it to?” 

_You_ , Wes almost blurts, but holds his tongue out of lingering caution. “I seek an escape from false convenience,” he says instead, sneaking a glance at Kid in time to catch the corners of Kid’s lips quirk upward. 

In a blink, the man is looming over him, close enough for Wes to feel cool breaths whispering over his face. (It smells woodsy, or perhaps like a muggy, blanketing fog.) 

(They are surrounded by trees. The dirt path is nowhere in sight. When had they stopped walking? Had they ever started?) 

“Why not let me provide, Wes Evans?” Kid asks, and Wes feels like he’s drowning in a golden, blissful sea. “Is it enough, Wes Evans, to confess that I want your heart?” Kid’s words sound more like promise than like confession. “Or should I admit that I want you in entirety? Or— perhaps I should _steal you away_. Let me grant your wishes, Wes Evans, and you will want for nothing.” 

“I wish,” Wes whispers to gold, gold, gold. 

Cold fingers slide into his hair. The shock jolts Wes from his stupor and weakens whatever influence Kid is exerting, just enough for Wes to tug instinctively at his necklace. 

Violin string falls against his chest. Kid’s hand vanishes. Without the support, Wes’s knees give out, but he presses the silver loops to one eye— 

**“Don’t look at me, Wes Evans,”** Kid commands, too late. 

The charm drops from Wes’s fingers. He presses the heel of his hand to the weeping eye. “I wish to escape this world,” he gasps. 

Kid’s face twists in— rage? Confusion? Greed?— some swirling, chaotic, alien mass of emotion. It’s the last thing Wes sees before his world turns to pitch, and woodsy fog whispers, “Wish granted, Wes Evans.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: one (1) single line of fantastical gore (goddammit blair)

#### ACT II. Deals

* * *

[when making deals, remember this:](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/166831496615)  
[the one thing that cannot be traded for your heart's desire is your heart.](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/166831496615)

* * *

A suffocating darkness. A dull, stifled, stifling panic that he knows and _hateshateshates_. 

Then, with a blink, he wakes. 

There is no Soul looming over him here, no eyes of gold or flash-photography red, only red-gold grass as lush as the green of the meadow had been. Wes casts about himself for mushrooms half-remembered and feels them before he sees them. 

Everything is odd, is Other. He looks down at the mushroom in his hand and sees nothing, feels nothing. His eye, the one he had seen Kid through, is still watery; he presses the heel of his hand to it, and the world aligns into breathtaking perfection. 

“Oh,” he says aloud, and then, “I fucking knew it.” 

“What did you know?” someone asks, and Wes turns to find beside him a black cat grooming a white patch of fur on its chest. 

Wes sneezes, and his eyes shut with the force of it. He sniffles. He opens both eyes to a tentative squint. 

The cat is still there, but with both his eyes on her, he sees more than a cat, and she stops grooming herself when she notices him staring. “My, you’re a dangerous one, aren’t you,” she purrs. “Who sent you? No, never mind, it doesn’t matter.” 

“I’m not dangerous,” Wes says, but even to himself it sounds like a lie. 

The cat eyes his chest, and Wes notices with a guilty start that his loops of violin string hang over his shirt. Greed and wariness war across the creature’s face. “Not dangerous,” she repeats, “Not dangerous, says the boy wearing catgut of iron and silver in a place which fears one and covets the other. I’ll make you a deal, dangerous one: Play for me, and I will protect you.” 

“If I’m as dangerous as you say, why should I need protection?” Wes asks, but he knows the answer even as the words fall from his mouth, so he adds, “I have nothing to play, anyway.” 

The cat stretches, suddenly and grotesquely, until Wes is looking at a violin carved in the shape of a flayed cat, belly open and entrails strung taut. _“Play_ ~~_for_~~ _me,”_ the cat repeats. 

It’s dangerous to accept the offer, but perhaps more dangerous to refuse her. Wes picks up the violin with false bravado, rests an imagined bow on its strings with perfect muscle memory, and plays half of a duet he’s almost forgotten but can never forget, the only song he can remember in this dreamlike otherworld. Perfect notes pour out, as exquisite as the details of the violin itself, pulled as much from memories as from the strings, and Wes becomes one with the song, with the instrument— 

“Well done,” the cat purrs, but she is no longer a cat, and Wes is no longer a human. Her eyes are the same, feline yellow, but Wes curls in on a small and alien body as the woman runs a long-nailed finger down his spine. “What a cute kitten,” she coos, picking him up by the scruff at the back of his neck, and Wes goes irresistibly boneless as he is carried away. 

Moments or eternities later, Wes is set on the floor of an enormous carved pumpkin, where he promptly sneezes seven times. 

“May it go right,” the woman says indulgently. 

“Excuse me,” Wes replies automatically, but someone is missing, and so to hide his stifled panic he rambles on, “I think I’m allergic to myself now— a _choo_.” 

“Don’t overthink it, kitten.” She seats herself on a stool and props her head upon one hand and watches him. “So? What brings you to the Other?” 

“Where?” he asks, but even as he asks, he knows. _Kid_ , he remembers, and the panic curdles in the pit of his stomach, twists like a jealous dragon. 

The woman tuts. “You are _very_ lost, aren’t you, kitten? You’re lucky the Other _adores_ you.” 

“Is the Other a man with black hair and gold eyes? Because if not, I don’t think I’m interested.” But his mind is racing underneath all of his quips, his heart pounding with more and more certain anxiety that _Kid should be here, why isn’t he here?_

“Too bad,” the woman is saying. “If the Other likes you, it takes you and makes you part of it, and it is _very_ eager to have you.” 

Wes presses his tiny cat-body to the floor. “But you’ll protect me?” 

She smiles, sharp and fey and uncanny just as Kid had been, but all the more unsettling for it. “What happened to not needing my protection?” 

“You offered it, and I played,” Wes points out. “Whether or not I _need_ it, I have it. Am I wrong?” 

He is being carelessly brazen with her. Even so, she doesn’t reply, and her smile widens fractionally. 

Wes sneezes. 

A hollow knocking reverberates around the pumpkin. “Blair,” two voices call as one, “we have come to ask your wisdom.” 

The woman’s hand catches Wes across his chest and shoves him firmly to one side of the huge room. “Enter and be welcome,” she calls to her visitors. 

The newcomers who appear in the threshold are dressed as twins, and their hands are joined, but they look as different as night and day. They see Wes immediately, and the girl (blonde, pigtailed, and swathed in a pitch black feathered cloak) looms close with only her glare. “A human,” she declares, disgusted. 

“A human,” her companion agrees. He looms closer still, bare-chested, his hair a vibrant summer sky interrupted by black storm-cloud feathers, but he is curious rather than threatening. 

“Maka, Black Star,” Blair greets, and they turn to her as if summoned. “To what honor do I owe the King’s Guard?” 

“We’ve lost the King,” the girl replies immediately, but then steals a wary glance at Wes, who presses himself to the floor as though pushed by the force of her glare. 

“ _Maks_ ,” the boy hisses, nudging her. 

Maka/Max nudges him back, saying, “We owe Blair our trust,” but she still eyes Wes suspiciously. “For now, the circumstances are not so dire that we cannot admit to this, ah… misplacement.” 

Blair’s smile is sharp and fey and uncanny. “Your trust is acknowledged.” 

The girl curtsies. “It is only your due.” 

“The New King has no debt to me,” Blair continues. “He is not here, and I do not expect him.” 

The boy is scowling. “What of the Seelie? The Winter Court is convening soon for Samhain, and the King…” 

“He is a New King, not a newborn,” Blair says. “It is not uncommon for Kings to slip their Guards, but he is neither foolish nor incautious enough to fall prey to the Summer Folk.” 

“The unaffiliated, then,” Black Star insists. “What of them?” 

“The Stone Dragon guards the borderlands very well,” Blair assures. “If the King had gone far enough to run into the unaffiliated, he would know.” 

“Has the King crossed the Veil?” Maka/Max asks. 

Blair shrugs fluidly. “No one watches the Veil, least of all me.” 

The girl glances yet again at Wes, who watches the nostrils of her snub nose flare. “But you crossed it to steal this human, didn’t you?” 

Blair laughs. “No, Maka, I found this one on this side of the Veil.” 

Maka’s cloak ripples. “ _How?_ ” 

“Who knows?” 

“He’s _dangerous_ —” 

“I am perfectly aware, kitten, but look at him! Look at how much the Other wants—” 

**“Cat Sith,”** a familiar, nerve-crackling voice says, and Wes leaps to it thoughtlessly, and then finally he is purring in Kid’s 

* * *

_(Time staggers.)_

* * *

He’s back in the other meadow, the one colored with red and gold. 

“I’ve granted your wish,” Kid says, and he looks like a black flaming wisp flecked with gold. “You should know the cost of such a deal.” 

Wes gathers his gold-scrambled mind and wipes at watering eyes. “I did not— did not ask you to bring me here,” he starts. “I did not ask you... to take me from the pumpkin house.” 

The wisp flickers irritably. “‘I wish to escape this world,’” he recites. “Do not deny the wish I granted, Wes Evans.” 

“ _Sssstop that_ ,” Wes slurs, and his mind clears just a little. “You can’t control me without my ffffull name. Don’t embarrass yourself… trying.” 

Kid advances, radiating a cold that seeps into Wes’s bones. Wes looks back at the darkness evenly, if weepily. (He’s got nothing to lose but his life, after all, and he barely cares for even that.) 

Wes’s mind clears as the black wisp vanishes. “Don’t tell me what to do,” Kid hisses petulantly. 

Wes turns around. The fey has resolved into a more human form, but the grass beneath his feet is frost-brittle. “You couldn’t have been an ordinary human, could you,” Kid says, but there is no anger, only helpless fascination. 

“Would you want an ordinary human?” Wes asks. 

Kid vanishes once more. “Who said that I want you?” 

“‘Should I admit that I want you in entirety?’” Wes recites smugly, and even though he can’t see the fey, he knows that Kid is blushing. “It would have to be true for you to suggest admitting it, and your kind do not lie.” 

“I could claim you for myself right now,” Kid says. “It would be within my rights.” 

He’s trying to be menacing. Wes feels distinctly and luxuriously unmenaced. “You were the one who granted my wish without asking for anything in return,” he replies, almost cheerfully. “If you want to turn that wish into a deal, well, isn’t that why we’re here?” 

“You **owe** me,” Kid insists. 

“Seven true days,” Wes says. “Seven days which will pass as I normally perceive days. If I should find my way home, I will give myself freely. If not, then you may take me, and make of me what you wish.” 

“I get you either way. Why should I wait?” 

“Either you get my body, or you get all of me,” Wes points out. “You could scramble my wits right now, if you wanted only my body. No, you want all of me, not just my shell.” He smiles, and hopes it doesn’t look as brittle as it feels. “Am I wrong?” 

Kid says nothing. Wes wonders if he has pushed his luck too far by putting such blunt words to the unstated, but reminds himself that he has nothing to lose. 

“You think you are unworthy,” Kid says slowly, and chills crawl up Wes’s spine. “You think…” 

“What I think is unimportant,” Wes interrupts, but his hand has risen to clutch at violin strings. “You are not the only one who has assigned me worth, either.” 

Kid emerges from the meadow at last, a tiny fairy creature with gold gossamer wings rising from fiery grass. He is nodding slowly, but he still looks puzzled. “You are a strange human, Wes Evans,” he declares. 

“Do we have a deal?” 

Kid shakes his head. “I have an adjustment to make.” 

“Name it.” 

“There is someone you should meet.” 

Wes blinks. “How much time will it take to meet them?” 

“We can go immediately,” Kid says, and the world shifts, breaks, realigns. Kid frowns. 

“Seven true days,” Wes reminds. 

Kid shakes his head. “That’s not the problem.” He flits around Wes, tiny body flickering. “I’m not the first one you have met here,” he realizes. “How—? _The pumpkin house._ ” 

Kid’s final words are a furious hiss. Wes feels cold. “You just brought me from there,” Wes says. 

Kid shakes his head. “No, I just sent you _here_ , to this meadow, from the other side of the Veil. That _meddlesome cat._ ” 

Wes watches him, uncertain. “What’s going on?” 

“She must have found you in the interim,” Kid says shortly. “How long has she had you?” 

Wes shrugs. “We made a deal. I played for her, and she is to protect me.” 

Kid bristles. “You don’t need that. You have _me_.” 

“I have _myself_ ,” Wes mutters, looking up at the colorless, grey sky. “I am to meet someone, and then I will have seven true days to find my way home. You will take my body and mind should I fail, and I will go home if I do not.” 

“You will give yourself to me if you succeed,” Kid says. 

Wes smiles. “You will have to take that on faith, Kid.” 

He pouts. “Three days.” 

“Three _true_ days, and we have a deal.” 

Kid is reluctant. “Three true days, then,” he allows, and settles his tiny body on Wes’s shoulder with a troubled huff. He pulls a clock from thin air, 

* * *

_(Time realigns.)_


	3. Chapter 3

#### ACT III. Families

* * *

[But back then, the Gods lived on Mount Olympus.](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/167391325211)  
[Heaven was believed to be as physical as Earth.](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/167391325211)  
[Hell could be reached through openings in rocks.](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/167391325211)  
[The whole cosmology was different.](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/167391325211)

* * *

He’s in the pumpkin house, purring in Kid’s arms. (He had never left. Kid had expected to find him in the meadow, so he had, but Wes had expected nothing, and so Blair had stolen him.) 

Wes sneezes. Kid’s arms tighten around him, but he makes no other indication that he has noticed that he is holding a cat. 

“King!” the guards cry. 

“King?” Wes echoes, looking up at Kid. 

“King,” Blair confirms calmly. “To what do I owe the honor?” 

“We would make a deal with you, Cat Sith,” Kid says, “that we think you will find generous: for our pet, a mushroom stew.” And, indeed, he offers a bowl to the woman. 

(Wes knows the bowl, knows the stew, and wonders if Blair will owe _Wes_ if she accepts the offer.) 

“Generous, indeed,” Blair says, smiling, but Wes thinks that she’s talking about herself rather than about Kid. ( _King?_ ) 

Kid leans forward into the tiniest bow Wes has ever witnessed. “Your time has been valuable. We will trouble you no further.” 

Blair is still smiling, sharp and fey and uncanny. “But King,” she says innocently, “that human is under my protection. I owe a debt to him, not the other way around.” 

Wes shivers with a sudden chill. Kid’s arms flicker around him. “He doesn’t need your protection,” the fey man hisses. 

“But he _has_ it. Isn’t that right, kitten?” 

Danger. Kid is _jealous_ , and at any other time, this might please Wes, but Blair channeling it toward Wes rather than facing it herself. 

“Why do you want to protect me?” Wes asks her. 

“Whoever said that I _want_ to protect you?” 

“Why else would you insist?” 

Blair’s smile vanishes, as does the rest of her. The pumpkin house lasts only a moment longer before it, too, yields to muted, grey loam. 

“We need to go,” Kid says immediately, running a long-fingered hand down Wes’s spine. By the time he is done, Wes has two feet rather than four. 

“King, we must return to the Court,” Black Star says. Wes jumps— he hadn’t realized that anyone else was still present. 

“You’re the _king_?” Wes blurts. 

Kid chuckles fondly. “You’re cute. Did you not eavesdrop on your brother and me?” 

“Soul values his privacy,” Wes says. “I see— I _saw_ no reason to disrespect that.” But the memory of Soul’s betrayal lingers bitterly. 

“King, why did you come for this human?” Maka asks, eyeing Wes skeptically. Her partner rests a hand on her shoulder. 

Kid takes Wes’s elbow. “He will be my consort,” he declares. 

Black Star laughs. “Careful, King, you might get his hopes up,” he chortles. 

Maka is less merry: disgust and disdain distort her fair features as she stares up at her king. “That would be a mistake,” she tells Kid bluntly. 

“I am a New King, not a newborn,” Kid dismisses. 

Maka’s cloak unfurls behind her like a moonless night, and Wes realizes that it was no cloak at all, but a set of enormous, folded wings. **“He is human,”** the girl roars, beak-nosed and vicious, and Wes finally understands why she is a King’s Guard. 

Black Star looks between his partner and his king for a long moment. “I see,” he says. He tugs his partner back to his side and wraps his arms around her before he addresses Kid. “I am to protect those who do not wish for it,” he says. “King, the Seelie…” 

“I hope you realize I was not fool enough to pick this time,” Kid snaps. “There were…” His eyes slide to Wes’s. “... _Extenuating circumstances_.” 

“What circumstances?” Maka demands. 

Kid waves a hand. “Circumstances which I am not at liberty to say. Believe you me, though, I hadn’t meant to bring him before the Court within the century. But yes, Wes is human.” 

“... To be fair, I don’t intend to remain so,” Wes offers brightly, belying how brittle he feels. 

Kid’s grasp tightens marginally over Wes’s elbow. “Is that so, Wes Evans?” 

Maka scoffs. “He knows nothing.” 

Kid is flickering. “He’ll learn soon.” 

_“Found you.”_

Wes startles at the two blonde women who have appeared on either side of him and Kid. 

“You’ve brought in more questionable characters,” the taller woman sighs. 

“Liz, Patty,” Kid greets. “I have a task for you— _rrk_.” 

Wes blinks at him. It takes him a moment to realize that the shorter woman has him in a headlock and is delivering an impressive noogie. 

_“Punishment,”_ the shorter woman hisses gleefully. _“You keep forgoing your promises with us. You gotta stop doing that.”_

“Pat, let him go,” her companion sighs. 

Kid straightens as Pat releases him. “I can hardly inflict you on anyone else,” he tells her. 

Black Star growls lowly. “I’ll inflict myself on her,” he mutters. Maka pats him sympathetically. 

“Liz, has the Fox Queen arrived?” Kid asks. 

The taller woman nods. “Her vanguard has, at least. They informed us that she is unlikely to arrive until immediately before the Court convenes in seven days.” 

“Did she send the changeling?” 

“They must have,” Maka says immediately. “They imagine that I cannot manage my time between them and my duties, and that you would be weaker without me.” Smirking, she nudges her partner. “They also underestimate this one.” 

Black Star nudges her back. “You’d be hopeless without me, Maks.” 

“Maybe,” she says, unruffled. 

“Patty’s beat him before,” Liz points out, smug. 

“ _That didn’t count._ ” 

_“Did, too.”_

“Patty, escort Maka and Wes to see the changeling,” Kid interrupts. “Liz, Black Star, with me. We must prepare the court.” 

_“Maka can take him, can’t she?”_ Patty complains. 

“Maka, loyal though she may be, is like as not to maim my human,” Kid points out. “Do take care of him.” And, with a lingering pat to Wes’s lower waist, he vanishes with his designated entourage. 

The pink-haired woman takes half a glance at Wes and throws her hands in the air. “I can’t do this, Jacqueline!” she exclaims to her companion. “Does your court like changelings so much that it’s _adopted_ one, Tengu?” 

“He’s not a changeling,” Maka says shortly. 

_“Yet,”_ Patty adds cheerfully. 

“Not a….” the stranger looms closer. “He’s human!” she exclaims. 

“Kimial, we’re here to see Crona,” Maka says. 

Kimial glares at her. “Just because you’re one of the New King’s Guards…” she mutters. The woman beside her nudges her. “Fine. Come with me.” 

She leads them to the wooden shack set some distance apart from the bulk of the other homes of what Wes assumes is the Fox Queen’s vanguard. “You have guests,” she announces, tapping at the door with a few disdainful flicks of her fingers. 

The door creaks open to reveal a sliver of a face. “Maka?” they ask hopefully. 

“She’s here,” Kimial says dismissively, and then turns to Maka, Wes, and Patty. “I’ll be back in one hour.” And she and her silent companion vanish back into the rest of the vanguard. Maka glares after her. 

_“Howzit, changeling?”_ Patty asks. The door shuts with a timid _click_. 

“I’m here, Crona,” Maka says hurriedly, turning back to the door. “I’ve just brought some… people with me.” 

The door opens again, slightly more than before, and Wes finally catches more than just a glimpse of the changeling. 

“ _Soul_?” Wes blurts, and the door snaps shut. 

Maka rounds on him. “They are Crona,” she snaps. “They may be your sibling by blood, but they are not yours.” 

Wes reaches for his necklace. “My… _oh_.” 

“Why does he look like me?” Crona whimpers from the other side of the door. “Did I do something bad? Will he take my place?” 

“Only if you want me to,” Wes promises in his very best Big Brother voice, the one he’d used on Soul when the latter still acted younger than him. “Crona? Can I come in?” 

“I don’t know,” Crona cries. “I don’t want anything, I swear.” 

Wes frowns at Maka. “Are human changelings always like this?” 

Maka shrugs resentfully. “It varies between clans. The Fox Queen’s clan happen to find them useless, and Crona’s guardian was unkinder than most, so.” She turns to the door. “Crona, it’s me, Maka. Let me and Patty and Wes in, please?” 

The door opens just a crack, but no one appears. Maka pushes it open the rest of the way, revealing a single stark, undecorated room, empty but for a bed upon which Not-Soul is nervously perched, their knees drawn to their chest and their back wedged into the corner. “Come in, Maka, Patty, Wes,” they whisper. 

Patty bounces happily into the room. _“Is it always like this?”_ she asks Maka. 

“You don’t have to be here,” Maka tells her. 

Patty shrugs. _“Gotta protect the changeling-to-be.”_

“He’s not going to become a changeling. That’s impossible.” 

_“I’m not here to change your mind, Maka.”_

A whimper draws Maka’s attention back to Crona. “Oh, no, I’m sorry,” she sighs, sitting on the edge of their bed. “Here. The woman is Patty. The human is… your blood brother.” 

“My name is Wes,” Wes adds. “I’m… trying to become a changeling—” 

**“Foolish,”** Crona spits, suddenly, with so much venom that Wes actually retreats from them. Patty steps between Wes and Crona, as well, though she does it absently, as though her attention has been caught by a quirk of the wall she now inspects. 

Crona’s hair is pink, like white laundry washed with red that bled. When they shake their head, their hair flops limply around their face. “Foolish,” they repeat. “The Courts will tear you to pieces. The Unseelie will tear you to pieces. You will be torn apart and remade in their shape, and you will cease to exist.” 

“ _You_ exist,” Wes points out. “You—” 

“I’m not **me** . I’m human and I’m not, fey and not. You know what a changeling is? A changeling is a **lie** in a place that **hates lies** .” They loom over Wes, eyes bulging with rage that flushes their cheeks and brings the scar crossing their face into stark, white relief. They are unrecognizable from the wilting creature who had opened the door for Maka and Wes. 

“You’re jealous,” Wes says. 

“You are **human** ,” Crona snarls. “Why would you throw that away? Why would you willingly become **nothing** ?” 

Wes looks into Crona’s furious eyes, enraged as Soul’s never were, and feels his brazen mask melting from his face, slopping to the floor under the heat of Crona’s magic. (Somewhere unimportant, Maka hisses in disgust. Patty claps and giggles.) 

“... You think you are unworthy,” Crona breathes, and they are just as baffled as Kid was. 

Wes smiles. It does nothing to hide how tired he is, how terribly tired he has been, for longer than he can remember, but he feels naked as he never has before. “I-if—” He cuts himself off, shaken by how vulnerable he sounds. “If you want to be human,” he tries again, “why not take my place?” 

Crona recoils. “I cannot.” 

“Why not?” He hitches his brittle smile higher. “Afraid of what’s become of me?” 

“They _would_ ,” Maka interrupts, placing one hand on Crona’s shoulder, “but only true fey can make such deals.” Crona scoots up beside her, clings to her cloak and hides their face in it. “You know nothing, Wes Evans, just as I said, and no fey in the clan will accept your deal.” 

“So I’ll find one from another clan.” 

Maka shakes her head. “You will be bound to that clan.” 

“People may come and people may go, but the court must stay,” Crona mumbles, muffled by Maka’s feathers. 

Wes shakes his head. “That makes no sense. How do you have children? What about changelings?” 

“Fey changelings steal human babes away and take their place,” Maka says tonelessly. “Sometimes, it is an act of spite. Not against the humans, usually,” she adds, and then shuts her mouth with a grimace. 

_“Yer papa did love humans,”_ Patty hums. _“And yer mama didn’t like that at all.”_

“You stay out of this,” Maka hisses at the other fey. 

Wes thinks of Soul. “My brother loves humans as much as I love fair folk,” he murmurs. 

Maka laughs, harshly. “Your brother?” 

Wes laughs right back. “I’ve known that Soul is a changeling for a very long time,” he admits, tugging at his necklace without pulling out the charm. “When I was small, I thought it was some trick of the string. Luckily for Soul, my parents never valued my more… whimsical inclinations.” 

Maka stares at him, then at his necklace. “What is that?” 

Wes shrugs. “I think Soul wanted to be seen, and would have taken any excuse. Now it just _works_.” He traces the loop through his shirt. “I didn’t realize at the time, but he burned his fingers making this for me. My parents were furious— we had a recital later that day, and they forced him to play his half anyway.” _They only thought he’d been playing in the kitchens and had burned his hand there playing chicken with the hall boys,_ Wes doesn’t say. The Fair Folk aren’t the only ones with a hierarchy. 

Maka nods slowly. “It worked once, so you believed it would work always.” 

_“The Court functions on beliefs,”_ Patty chimes in. 

Wes chuckles. “Like Tinkerbell?” 

The Fair Folk around him all regard him with nostalgic skepticism. He shrugs back at them. 

“Beliefs?” he prods. 

“Once upon a time, humans believed that we walked among them, so we did,” Maka says softly, as though reciting from a textbook. 

_“Things were easier then, when the fey could toy with humans, when they would not even dare touch,”_ Patty says, in the same tone. 

“And then the Veil came down.” 

Wes turns and finds Kimial standing at the door, waiting, but she says nothing more. “Time to go,” she says instead. 


	4. Chapter 4

#### INTERMISSION. The Changeling and the New King

* * *

[You don't have to understand it. You don't have to believe in it.](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/158451410675/breelandwalker-gayantlers-swynwraigh)  
[But if you know what’s good for you, **DON’T FUCK WITH IT**.](https://soundofez.tumblr.com/post/158451410675/breelandwalker-gayantlers-swynwraigh)

* * *

“Take value in the changeling,” the King tells him, and so he does, slipping through a ring of mushrooms and beyond the Veil to peek at what is now the human world. 

Things are more tangible here, more _real_ — ironic for a world which is less committed to the truth the way the Other is. Perhaps this world is too concerned with material continuity to concern itself with truth. It’s ridiculously simple (and ridiculously tedious) to pick his way toward the fey-touched music that can only be coming from the changeling, and so he does. 

When he finds the changeling, he is surprised: for a being so valued by the King, the changeling is awfully small— but then he realizes that the smallness is a lie. How much magic does the changeling have, he wonders, to hide so much of his true form in this world which insists on true forms? 

“You’re the… next one, aren’t you?” the changeling asks, peering up at him. “Why have you… come to me?” 

“The King told me to see you,” he replies, but that’s not quite right. 

“The Ki-King can bugger off,” the changeling says, scowling. “Let him know… that I can do nothing for him, and I’ll do n-nothing for you, either.” 

A human bustles over and seizes the changeling’s wrist. “Soul,” she snaps, “no talking to your friends.” 

He glares up at the human, who tugs at the changeling arrogantly, but the changeling lets her pull him away, so he follows them. “Why are you letting them do that?” he asks. “What happened to your fingers?” 

“Look, kid, I’m sorry, but Soul is grounded,” the human says. 

He ignores her in favor of staring quizzically at the changeling. 

“G-go away,” the changeling says. “Leave me alone.” 

* * *

The door opens to his knocking. “You’re… back.” 

“I mean to make an alliance with your clan,” he explains. 

The changeling recoils. “I hold no sway there. You’ll have to find… another way.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re the key.” 

“If you… think that, you’re a fool,” the changeling says softly. “Do you know what they’ve done to my ch-changeling? They care nothing for me.” 

“Whether or not they care, they will listen,” he insists. “The Seelie are gathering strength. The Winter Court cannot afford to be divided, and your clan—” 

“Soul? Who’re you talking to?” 

The changeling shuts the door. 

Someone peers through the distorted glass of the window set in the door. “Who’s the kid?” 

The changeling has no _privacy_ , he mourns, but even as he slinks away, he vows to return. 

* * *

“C-come in.” 

He steps through the threshold. “You moved,” he replies. 

“Humans do that,” the changeling quips. “Besides… you’re glad to find me alone.” 

“I thought you liked living with humans?” 

The changeling sighs. “I can’t… really do that now, can I? I’m too c-caught up in the affairs of the Other.” 

* * *

“She has agreed to hear you, N-New King.” 

“But _when_?” 

The changeling sighs. “I’ll know… the next time you visit,” he promises, and takes a sip of his tea. 

* * *

_(Time realigns.)_

* * *

He’s on his way to visit the changeling for what may be the last time when he hears a human and investigates. 

The human is a tall man, fair of hair, twirling slowly on the spot, sprinkling spice over a ring of mushrooms around him. The New King is baffled and wary, and perhaps a little intrigued, but there is no lingering tree spirit, no magic beckoning from beyond the Veil, only the mild, harmless sting of oregano. 

As surely as he has ever wanted anything, he wants this human. He steps into the meadow. “You know, salt is what keeps us away.” 

The human looks up at his voice. “Oh,” he says softly, meeting the King’s eyes. “You’re beautiful. Why would I want to keep you away?” 

The King eyes a mushroom. “These aren’t even native,” he says critically, picking one up, “nor have you arranged them symmetrically. Is this a circle? Did you even _try_?” 

The human shrugs. “That would have been quite an effort for something that was only meant to tempt fate.” Then, smiling benignly, “You’re here, though, so I suppose it was enough.” 

The King stares back at the human, fascinated. “And who am I?” he asks. 

“I don’t know who you are, but I know you are of the hills,” the human says. 

A believer. The King throws magic into his gaze and catches the human when he falls. 

Later, mushroom still in hand, he thinks of the human and dreams of the day when he can take him as his consort. 

* * *

He hadn’t noticed the human’s resemblance to the changeling’s false form. He wonders if that would have changed his decision. Probably not. 

“Kid?” he asks. 

“I don’t… want him to know what you are,” the changeling replies, scowling. 

“There are no human Kings?” 

“Not in this part of the world.” 

The King leans back in his chair. “When will your clan meet with me?” 

“The Winter Court will convene, and you will make your case before it,” the changeling recites. 

The King frowns. “The Tod Queen wants me to make a fool of myself.” 

“You have already… made a fool of yourself by coming to _me_ ,” the changeling points out. “You will be only slightly more… public a fool.” 

“I’m a _New King_.” 

“And that grants you leeway while you… seek the path to change.” The changeling quirks his brow. “Or s-so you insisted. Was that a lie?” 

“No.” But the whole affair stinks of a trap, designed for him to be stripped of his clan by the will of the Winter Queen while the Tod looks on. 

The changeling sighs. “Fool you may be and become, King… but at least you are a good one,” he says glumly. “Aside from your earlier… misstep, of course.” 

“He’s just a human,” the King says. 

“He’s _my_ human. Don’t pretend… like you care nothing for him. I see how you’ve been looking at him.” 

“He would make a good consort, if the Other would take him, and I think it would.” He glances wistfully at the door. “At the very least, he would be a good pet.” 

_“Don’t touch him.”_

“I’m not a fool,” he snaps. “If I’d known he was yours, I wouldn’t have—” He cuts himself off. 

“You wouldn’t have what? I know all too well h-how much he is drawn to the Other… and the Other to him.” The changeling barks out a single, humorless laugh and leans in toward the King. (The changeling is powerful, the King had known, but he _feels_ it now as he hadn’t before.) “Here is my deal, N-New King: keep away from _my brother_ … and I will support you to the b-best of my ability.” 

The King considers the changeling. “And if I don’t?” 

The changeling glares back. “D-don’t make me have to think of something.” 

* * *

Wes Evans falls into the Other. 

Before the King can follow, he is pinned to a tree by a furious changeling. 

_“What have you d-done?”_ the changeling hisses. 

“How did you know—?” 

“We had a _deal_ , King! He is **mine**!” 

The changeling’s flesh is icy to touch, even for the King. “You’ll kill your body if you keep this up.” He is scraped harder into the tree for his warning. 

“I’m staying here long enough to _kill you_ … and then I’m bringing him back,” the changeling says grimly. 

“He was the one who made the wish,” the King protests. 

“D-do you think me a fool? I know as well as anyone how easy it is to pull wishes from humans—” 

“Changeling, he saw me and _made the wish anyway_.” 

The changeling stares at the King for a long moment. “That little fool,” he says finally, tiredly. “Fine.” He releases the King. “Go. But _take care of him_ , King… or I’ll have had more time to think of what to d-do with you.” 

The King sinks back to the forest floor. “... Thank you, Soul,” he says, and ducks through the Veil. 

* * *

_(Time staggers.)_


	5. Chapter 5

#### ACT IV. Parlay

* * *

[if you are brave and clever and very, very lucky,](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378/)  
[you can win a favor,](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378/)  
[but if you try to play their games,](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378/)  
[gamble nothing you cannot lose.](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378/)

* * *

Wes remembers reuniting with Kid after seeing Crona, remembers lounging together for weeks or _months_ — but that time feels fleeting somehow, as if they span only a few luxurious hours before being interrupted by Blair. 

“Three true days,” she purrs, and Wes nearly scrambles out of Kid’s lap out of some half-remembered fear. 

Kid is clutching his lover to him, however, arms icy around Wes’s waist. “Cat Sith.” 

“King,” the cat replies happily, “I have been searching for a way to protect the kitten from the Other. _You_ should be preparing for Samhain, by the way. It’s a big one for you, isn’t it?” 

Wes lets Kid tug him back to his lap. “You and your little birds,” Kid grumbles. “What do you want?” 

“Nothing more than to repay the debt I owe,” Blair says cheerfully, her smile as sharp and fey and uncanny as ever. “You know me— I just can’t bear to be in someone’s debt.” 

Kid is reluctant to leave and suspicious of that cat. “I’m not letting you steal him away.” 

“Call Maka or Black Star, they can watch us while you’re off being a King,” Blair tells him. 

But Patty is the one who taps at the threshold. _“I’ll watch him. Get to work, King,”_ she orders Kid, and Kid sobs and pouts and flounces his way to Liz and his Guards, all waiting faithfully for him. (Wes steals a parting kiss.) 

“Come, then,” Blair says to Patty. 

“Where are we going?” Wes asks. 

Blair turns to him. “Three true days to find your way home. How long has it been already?” 

Wes blinks. “Was it not enough to be with Kid and call him home?” he asks, thinking upon his past ~~days~~ ~~weeks~~ hours.

The cat laughs wryly. “Enough for the King, perhaps, but the Other was claiming you all the same. Didn’t you notice?” 

“Notice what?” 

Patty is the one who speaks. _“Time.”_

Wes stares at both of them. “What about it?” 

“How long have you been in the Other, kitten?” Blair asks. 

“A day, maybe.” But Wes isn’t even very certain about that. 

“How long have we been travelling?” 

He opens his mouth to reply and finds no answer to explain exactly how they had gone from exiting Kid’s room to walking through hazy red-gold meadows. 

Blair nods. “And that is why we should hurry.” She pauses as they stop before a large, stony hill. “Well, we _did_ hurry. Wake up, Stein.” 

The hill shudders, parting along hairline cracks Wes hadn’t even seen. “Blair,” a grumbling voice greets sleepily over the rumble of moving stone. “Couldn’t wait for me to wake up, could you?” 

“Were you sleeping?” Blair asks innocently. “I couldn’t tell.” 

“Awful cat.” But the voice sounds amused and almost eager. “What have you brought me?” 

“I present for your judgment a human who wishes to become a changeling,” Blair announces, and then whacks Wes’s shoulder playfully. “You’re up, kitten.” 

And the stone hill wraps suddenly around him. 

“A human who wishes to become a changeling,” the grumbling voice echoes, ignoring Wes’s startled shout. “Tell me more, little fool.” 

His mind is as hazy as the meadows had been. Wes reaches for his necklace. 

“There’s no point in that, little fool,” the voice says, and it sounds amused. “Come, tell me what you have to offer.” 

Wes inhales slowly. “All due respect, I’d rather tell you what I ask.” 

“Then speak.” 

“I ask to take someone’s place in this world, so that the Other may become my home. I think I’d like to take your place, but I don’t know what it—” He cuts himself off. He’s being tolerated, and that frightens him. In all his dealings with the Other, Wes has never dealt with a being who didn’t want him alive and safe and whole— or perhaps he didn’t care, before. 

“The only place I could grant for you is mine,” the voice admits, “but why should I?” 

“You would— take my place. In the— on the other side of the Veil.” 

“That’s not an answer, little fool.” 

“Then this is a hopeless deal. I have nothing else to give.” 

The voice laughs. “And Blair said you were dangerous. The Other must have weakened you, little fool.” 

“A fool would have come here knowing nothing and declared that you would want what he offered.” 

“Perhaps.” The stone before Wes cracks again along seams which he hadn’t seen, and this time he watches as a dragon’s head and neck turn toward him, blinking eyes as yellow as Blair’s. “Lucky for you, I have interest in your place in the world, so I will grant you my name for yours. I am the Stone Dragon now, but not so long ago I was Franklin Stein.” 

“Franklin Stein,” Wes repeats. “Franklin Stein, I am Wes Allan Evans.” 

The little cave begins to crumble, even the dragon’s head, sloughing off stone skin until finally Wes stands before a man who could be his mirror but for his grey skin, though he has taken Wes’s eyes. (Wes wonders if his own eyes have turned that sickly yellow, but does not ask.) 

“It’s not over yet,” Wes’s doppelganger says, cutting off Blair’s applause and Patty’s whoops of delight. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking in after this one,” he adds to Patty. 

_“Only doing my job,”_ Patty says. _“What could a Cassandra like myself do, anyway?”_

“The New King’s clan is dangerous, indeed,” Stein murmurs. “Now then, Wes Allan Evans, who is the woman you are betrothed to?” 

Wes flinches. “How do you know that?” 

Stein flaps a hand. “A little bird told me.” 

“Who is this bird?” Wes grumbles. “Why do you want to know of her?” 

Stein tilts his head. “I would be betrothed to her, would I not? Speak. What makes you so eager to leave her behind?” 

“I don’t love her.” 

“Of course you don’t. The New King isn’t that much of a besotted fool. What else?” 

Wes hesitates. “... She doesn’t love me, either,” he admits. “We met to decide our compatibility. She declared me compatible. My parents declared her compatible. The date was set.” 

“So she has no claim on your heart, nor you on hers. What gives you the right to give her away?” 

“I don’t— _nothing_ would give me that right, that right is hers alone— but she has decided to have a man.” 

“She has not decided me compatible.” 

“She has decided _Wes Evans_ compatible. She has as much choice as you do. I… I could not refuse my parents. You could.” 

Stein taps his chin. “I suppose so. Poor things. They’ll have no idea that neither of their sons are theirs.” 

“Soul is theirs. As much as Soul is my brother, he’s their son.” 

“Really? You, yes— you are the changeling’s brother, and he is yours. But would your parents care so little that their son is not their blood?” 

“They are his parents.” 

The dragon sighs. (Wes is reminded vividly of his little brother.) “It seems that you offer me a lot of work,” he proclaims, and then smiles, sharp and fey and uncanny as Blair. “How interesting. Here is my offer: I will give you my place in this world, and I will give you half of my magic, but I will tell you only as much as you think to ask. You may ask after the deal is struck, but once I have crossed the Veil, your opportunities to ask will be subject to my availability. Deal?” 

Wes barely stops to think before he speaks. “Deal.” 

* * *

By the time Franklin Stein vanishes from the Other, Wes’s mind is clear for the first time in _weeks_. “I didn’t realize I’d made a deal with the Other when I made the deal with Kid,” he tells Blair. “Thank you.” 

Blair giggles. “Has my debt been repaid so soon, kitten? No, dear, I thank _you_ for your stew.” 

Wes blinks at her. “You knew?” 

“Don’t be so surprised, kitten. I know many things, or will come to know them.” 

“You’re very generous. That was Kid’s gift.” 

“It was not his to give. Or it was, but to sever a thing from its maker is not so easy as you changelings make it look.” 

_“I want some stew,”_ Patty says wistfully. _“Everyone makes it sound delicious.”_

“I’m sure I can make some for the clan when I get back,” Wes says. 

_“You can’t. You have to present yourself to the Court.”_

They are already on their way back. This time, Wes is aware of time as it passes, though there is still something intangible about the whole event. 

_“It takes exactly the time it needs to take,”_ Patty explains. _“It gives time for what it needs said and done, no less, and no more. It really likes you, to give you time enough to ask of this.”_

“You said I needed to speak before the Court.” 

_“I said, ‘You have to present yourself to the Court.’”_

“... Yes. What do you mean?” 

_“People can come and people can go, but the Court must stay. You are of the Court now, and you must be witnessed before it.”_

Wes looks to Blair. “We couldn’t have waited for the Dragon to appear at Samhain?” 

“Members which have been witnessed do not have to present themselves again,” Blair tells him. “Now that you have taken his place, you must.” 

“Oh.” Wes thinks. “What’s stopping me from making stew after I present myself to the Court?” 

_“As a dragon, your duty is to the Between,”_ Patty tells him. _“You must return there.”_

Annoying. “Why didn’t Stein tell me— _ugh_.” 

“Poor kitten,” Blair says sympathetically. 

Wes pushes faster through the Other, impatient, wanting to see Kid before Samhain so that he can linger until the Court convenes, wanting to show Kid what he has become, and the Other yields and delivers him directly to Kid’s chambers. 

“Your colors,” Kid murmurs, reaching for Wes. “You’ve gone grey.” 

Kid’s hands are no longer cold to the touch. Wes carries them to his lips. “I made a deal with the Stone Dragon,” he murmurs against pale knuckles, and smiles into the skin. “I’m home, love.” 


	6. Chapter 6

#### ACT V. Fairy Ring

* * *

[musicians are stolen most often](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378)  
[(but they’re also the most likely to come home)](http://charminglyantiquated.tumblr.com/post/157198258378)

* * *

Soul crosses his arms. “Wh-what the fuck,” he says quietly, glaring down at the ring of shiitake mushrooms scattered on his kitchen floor. 

A phantasmic image of Wes waves cheerfully back at him. “The Court functions on belief,” Wes reminds cheerfully. “If I want it more than it doesn’t make sense, it’ll happen.” 

Soul sighs. The image flickers. Wes pouts. “Don’t be like that, little brother.” 

Soul rolls his eyes. “F-fine. Let me get comfortable, at least….” He steps around his brother and to the pot of tea brewing at the stove. Once he has settled upon a kitchen chair, mug in hand, he turns his attention back to Wes. “So. My ‘ _brother_ ,’ Franklin, has eloped with his fiancée… and in the interest of escaping the reach of our beloved parents, they have ch-changed their surname to Stein. Of course, aforementioned fiancée has… _no idea_ … that Wes Evans ever was, dear brother. If you… remain that.” He sips at his tea, grimaces, and rises to fetch a glass of milk from the refrigerator. 

Wes waits for him to sit back down. “I may share blood with your changeling, but I will always be your brother, Soul,” he says solemnly. 

Soul takes another sip of his tea, now milky. “Oh, I know. It’s much too… difficult, to be rid of you. You are fine with being forgotten, though?” 

Wes waves a bejeweled hand. “Marie deserves better than me, anyway.” 

“And the King… doesn’t?” 

“Kid has awful taste,” Wes says without hesitation. 

“I will never understand how you are so lacking in self-worth,” the King huffs from beyond the range of the makeshift fairy circle. 

“Your love is more than enough to make up for it,” Wes replies, glancing behind himself, presumably to where the King is hovering out of Soul’s sight. “Also, you taste _gr_ —” 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Soul announces. “How d-did the Court receive you?” 

“The fox lady looked reluctant, but the Winter Queen seemed perfectly accepting,” Wes reports, glancing behind him again. “Kid, do you want to tell him how it went for you?” 

Soul straightens. “He… told you?” 

Wes rolls his eyes. “It’s global warming. I didn’t know it had roots in the Other, but it wasn’t exactly a shock.” 

“The Winter Court has heard me, and Mother Beira has agreed to pull the clans together for the solstice,” the King says. “Your clan Queen was… less than pleased with her decision, but since she had forced my hand, there wasn’t much she could do.” 

Soul imagines his cackling Queen and smirks to himself. “A pity. It’s good that you succeeded.” He pauses. “Wes… you are all right, there?” 

“Maka still hates my guts, and Black Star wants to fight a dragon for fun so I have to be very careful not to owe either of them any favors, but Blair is very good about warding them off,” Wes says. “I miss salt, though. I may try to escape through the Veil for one last taste of ramen.” 

Soul flinches, and the King appears, arms wrapped around Wes in a hug which pins his arms to his sides. “Don’t,” Soul and the King both say in tandem. 

“I’d have some kind of terrible reaction, I know,” Wes sighs mournfully. “But really, I am sick of mushroom stew.” 

“You don’t have to make it for everyone,” the King grumbles into Wes’s back. 

“I think I’m slowly winning Maka over, though,” Wes replies. “Aren’t I?” he calls, raising his voice and grinning over his shoulder at someone else out of sight, probably Maka, though no one replies. “Oh!” Wes adds, “Soul, if you do track down Stein, can you ask him to set one of these rings up? I have _so many questions_ to ask him. Also, I want to yell at him for not telling me that I’d be stuck guarding the Between.” 

“You were the one who forgot to ask,” Soul says reproachfully. 

“Yes, but I want to yell at him for not telling me that I’d be stuck guarding the _border between the Seelie and Unseelie_ , who are quite literally _about to go to war_.” 

“I’m told that the alternative… would have been to forfeit yourself to the Other,” Soul points out. “You were very… _very_ lucky he didn’t push his advantage.” 

The King growls. “He wouldn’t have dared.” 

“He and Blair seemed to know each other,” Wes recalls. “Maybe she helped somehow?” 

“They were… the King’s Guards,” Soul says. “For the last King. The Dragon was especially powerful.” 

“Cat Sith was equally important,” the King says. “You were of another clan, so you wouldn’t have known, but she was a master at what she did.” He frowns. “She’s very eager to stay indebted to Wes, however.” 

“Let her,” Wes says, craning his neck to press his lips to the King’s hair. “She doesn’t need favors to get what she wants, so I can only assume that she has what she wants. For her to owe favors to us is, well, favorable.” 

Soul grimaces as the image takes a sharp turn toward loverly. “If that’s all, I’ll be going,” he tells the couple. 

They don’t answer. Soul lets his latent disbelief destroy the transmission. “Happy fools,” he sighs, and leans back in his kitchen chair, and drains his tea in pleased silence. 

The cabin’s little brounie pads quietly into the kitchen, probably picking up the shiitake mushrooms scattered about the floor. Soul closes his eyes. Once it’s gone, he pushes himself out of his chair and looks down at the now bare floor. “May it go well, Stone Dragon… New King,” he says quietly, and traipses away to his bedroom to sleep. 

* * *

[ but once in a while [they] refuse to come back - ](https://elsewhereuniversity.tumblr.com/post/157317426279/)  
[they’re in love with a person or in love with the whole world;](https://elsewhereuniversity.tumblr.com/post/157317426279/)  
[they’ve found a purpose here. ](https://elsewhereuniversity.tumblr.com/post/157317426279/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh in case you missed it bc i was a dingus and forgot to willsmithpresents my partners when i first smashed those goodgood publish buttons, my partners in crime have been the sweet, constant [@sahdah](http://sahdah.tumblr.com) ([art](https://sahdah.tumblr.com/post/168370637870/fairy-ring-soundofez-did-the-resbang-thing-and)) and the enthusiastic [@fabulousanima](http://fabulousanima.tumblr.com) ([art](http://fabulousanima.tumblr.com/post/168371394729/i-had-the-enormous-privilege-of-working-with))!
> 
> but of course, this fic would not exist and could not be possible without the fantastic, the mystical, the Queen [@l0chn3ss](http://l0chn3ss.tumblr.com). you’re my favorite cryptid forever, nessie ♥️


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